


Never Enough Pizza

by Kiarawolf



Category: Best Friends Forever (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mention of rimming, also sex, massive warnings for angst, this is not pg13 okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiarawolf/pseuds/Kiarawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to Louis and Vincent, it’s never been about just the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Enough Pizza

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to Mickey Quinn <3  
> No profit is being made.

  Louis spots him halfway through lunch. Broad shoulders, blonde hair. The boy turns sideways, laughing at something his little Indian lunch-mate has said, and Louis can’t stop staring at that long nose, that strong jaw, those tempting lips.

  He nudges John. ‘Hey, the muscly Adonis… which team’s he on?’

  John glares at him. ‘He’s on _my_ team, Louis. My football team. I told you, fuck whoever you want but stay away from my friends. Fuck, first day here and you’re already stuffing up my fucking life – ’

‘Woah, alright, alright. I was just teasing you, God. No need to be so _tense_.’

  John grunts, and goes back to his lasagne.

\--

  Louis sits behind the blonde boy in English.

  The other boy is there as well, the small one from lunch. ‘Vincent,’ the boy asks, and Louis doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the question because he has a name now.

  Vincent.

  And he’s smiling, and Louis is close enough to see that his eyes are blue and that there’s a slight hint of dimple in his cheeks.

  Louis takes a little longer than everyone else to pack up, after class. He gets to watch Vincent stand up… and then Vincent leans down to hook his bag up onto his shoulder.

  Fuck, that arse.

\--

‘Uh, sorry, excuse me…’ Vincent smiles apologetically as he reaches across Louis’ lap to the pencil he’s dropped.

‘No worries. You look pretty good down there.’

  Vincent comes up blushing, alarmed eyes darting involuntarily to the boy Louis now knows is named Teddy. ‘I – uh – what the fuck, that’s…’

  Louis forces a laugh. ‘What, I was just messing with you.’

  Vincent’s shoulders ease a little. ‘Uh, okay…’

  Louis watches him shuffle back across to his desk. Watches him drop the pencil again the moment Teddy comments on the blush. ‘It’s nothing,’ Vincent lies.

  Well, fuck.

\--

  Before school most mornings, John plays videogames. The muffled tremor of explosions is almost as effective as Louis’ alarm. By the time Louis is done in the bathroom – wash, comb, blow-dry, moisturise – John is banging on the door, threatening to do his morning shit all over Louis’ room if Louis doesn’t ‘fucking get out of the bathroom, _right now_.’

  Louis has French toast with bacon, and John packs in the eggs.

  John drives them to school. They park at the back of the car park, in-between Andre’s sleek blue Mercedes and Charlie’s hot pink Jeep.

  John and Andre bump shoulders and grunt at each other, and Louis – every morning, without fail – rolls his eyes. Still, he tags behind them, flicking through his phone, as they walk the length of the car park up to the school proper.

  And every morning, he sees them.

\--

  Vincent ruffling Teddy’s hair.

\--

  Vincent pulling up to his park a little later than usual, but still having time to fix Teddy’s tie (there’s nothing wrong with it, that Louis can see).

\--

  Teddy passing Vincent a Starbucks one chilly morning. The drink is steaming from its breather hole, looking as sickly warm as the smile that the two friends share. From the whiff that Louis gets as he strolls casually past, it smells like a chai latte.

\--

  Vincent with his engine long gone cold, and his body doubled over in the driver’s seat. ‘God Teddy,’ he laughs, ‘you’re killing me…’

  Louis stares a little to long, that morning, and Teddy meets his eyes over Vincent’s shaking shoulders.

  _Can I help you?_ The polite frown seems to say.

\--

  John doesn’t speak to him much at school. Which is fine, because Louis doesn’t really care about this place anyway. He keeps the email his Dad sent him flagged at the top of his inbox – _Sure thing kiddo, there’ll always be a spot for you in the family business. Just get that graduation certificate._  

  Besides, John’s friends are okay. Andre’s friendly, and Kamri’s a pal. It’s fine.

\--

  Louis gets paired with him in French. Vincent mumbles vowels, mis-pronounces numbers, and says he’s too busy to meet up outside of class.

  They arrange instead to be in the library at lunch, but Vincent arrives ten minutes late with an apple in his mouth and an apology on his tongue.

  Louis waves it away. ‘Whatever, let’s just get started.’

  Vincent spends half the time on his phone.

\--

  Kamri does her nails while Louis re-actives his old grindr account. ‘I’m so ready to get some action,’ he complains.

‘Mmm,’ Kamri hums, ‘you’ve been pretty tense lately.’

  Louis laughs. ‘Like you can talk. Who’s this guy that’s got you so moon-eyed, anyway?’

  Kamri blows on her nails. ‘Promise not to tell?’

‘Yes,’ Louis rolls his eyes.

‘Um, it’s Vincent. We’ve kinda had a thing going since… well, since his face cleared up. I think he might ask me out properly soon.’

  Louis feels frozen. ‘You’ve… had a thing?’

‘Yeah, like, you know… fooling around and stuff. Just casual.’

  Louis frowns. ‘Vincent’s… into girls?’

  Kamri punches him, careful to keep her fresh polish out of the way. ‘Yes, you arsehole. Why… has he… said anything? To you?’

  Louis pauses. ‘No. It’s just a vibe I got, but I’ve been wrong before.’

  Louis has never been wrong before.

\--

  Andre’s surprisingly quiet. Louis looks up, checks nothing’s wrong.

‘Fuck,’ Andre moans, and his eyes are screwed shut and his lips are mouthing air, his Adam’s apple quivering.

  Louis licks a lingering line up Andre’s cock, holding the other boy’s hips in place to absorb the inevitable involuntary thrusts.

\--

‘Look, I’m not… I mean, this is fun, but we’re just messing around, right?’

  Louis’ eyes are tracing patterns in the ceiling’s wallpaper. He shifts a little, trying to find a position that hurts his arse a little less. ‘Yeah Andre, whatever. Wanna share a joint?’

\--

  Geography. Vincent. Afternoon light, birds outside.

‘How the hell do you not even know where Poland is, we _studied_ WW2 last term, you idiot.’

  Vincent shifting slightly in his seat, frowning. ‘I uh, don’t exactly do well in History.’

‘No, I suppose not. Teddy does quite well though, doesn’t he?’

  Vincent looks out the window, swallows a yawn. ‘Dude, Teddy doesn’t even take History.’

  Louis laughs, and forces himself to keep it light, keep it soft and affectionate, the way Vincent just said Teddy’s name. ‘Doesn’t stop him from doing your assignments, now does it,’ Louis pokes, and Vincent’s eyes leave the window, his body straightens up, yes, _yes_ , he’s back in the classroom, he’s back to staring (glaring, but the difference is technical) Louis in the eyes, he’s back to looking and conversing and Louis wishes this wasn’t the only way those things ever happened.

‘Teddy would never – uh, I’d never – I mean, that’s cheating – ’

‘Oh, you call it “helping,” do you? That’s quaint.’

‘Hey, where is this coming from, you can’t just accuse – ’ Vincent’s nostrils are flaring, and there’s an edge to his vowels that Louis could cut himself on (wants to).

‘Calm down, big boy, I’m not judging. I’d do the quarterback’s homework too, if I was hopelessly trying to get in his – ’

‘Don’t,’ Vincent snarls, the one word lashing through Louis like a snakebite, the intense humming of Vincent’s energy directed all at him lighting him up like a flash of storm, ‘It’s not like that – ’

‘Mr Lindbeck, Mr Fawkes, please, if you’re not going to label Europe at least stop disturbing the other students.’

\--

  Kamri’s sunglasses keep slipping down her head.

‘Take them off for fuck’s sake, we’re inside.’

  She scows at him, but she lifts them off her hair and drops them into her clutch. ‘Better? What’s got you in such a mood?’

  Louis thumbs his phone. ‘Nothing.’

  They work their way through the mall. Louis finds a pair of leather high-waisted jeans and Kamri tries a whole store worth of lace bras. ‘Do you think Vincent would like this one,’ she asks, coming out of the changing room for what must be the tenth time. She’s ditched the run of black and has now opted for pastel pink.

  The image comes unbidden. Vincent, naked but for that lace around his chest, his pecs completely the wrong size and shape to fit, the clasp not quite making it all the way around the back. It’s absurd. But Louis can’t quite get Vincent’s flustered blush out of his mind. ‘Who cares what that meat bag thinks, do you like it?’

  Kamri gets a black one after all.

\--

  School, when it gets back, is tedium. The rollcall takes years. There’s chewing gum stuck and hardened under the desk. People greet him in the corridor, asking how his summer was and expect him to be cheery and polite in response.

  Kamri meets him out behind the football stand during lunch, and they share a cigarette without saying a single word. She’s wearing the black bra, and Louis wishes, just for a moment, that this – her – the quiet understanding, the nicotine-fuelled companionship, the shopping and texting and gossip and no, that’s enough.

  It’s enough.

  Vincent’s seated in front of him, during last-period French, and Louis admires the tan that’s settled happily across the back of his neck. He notes a new hair-cut; just a trim, just a clipping away of split ends that’s left the overall length sitting lower that it had before break.

  It takes a few days for Louis to notice the other signs of summer, carved so subtly into Vincent’s body posture and voice. It takes a few days because when Vincent’s with Teddy, Louis has a rule that he’s not allowed the stare.

  But he’s never been very good at rules, and it’s been a long, boring summer with nothing but Kamri’s dull knickers problems to entertain him (Andre was snowboarding in the alps), so Louis had been staring – just a little – and he’s seen it. The change.

\--

  It’s very small. A wedge, a slither. About the size of hope.

\--

  It’s politeness. It’s ‘oh, uh – sorry,’ when Vincent’s eating lunch and his hand brushes Teddy’s arm.

\--

  It’s ‘Vincent, let’s be partners!’ in Math.

  And a very, very tiny wince. ‘Uh, of course Teddy, who else would I do the project with?’

  Partners – do the project. The redefinition is unnecessary. Boundaries, parameters – Louis swims in the implications, wondering, perhaps…

\--

  But Louis has never been wrong.

\--

  He’s not doing very well in French – a certain pair of shoulders keep distracting him – so Louis joins Student Council for extra credit (insurance).

  He’s not surprised when Teddy is elected president – Louis voted for him, after all.

  Teddy’s tiny and nerdy and quiet. Louis doesn’t see Vincent’s fascination, but he understands the friendship.

‘I’ll do the publicity for homecoming, if you want,’ Louis offers, thinking that posters and flyers are a good way out of actual responsibility.

  Teddy beams. ‘That would be great, Louis.’

  Later, Teddy texts to ask how they’re coming along, and Louis finds himself having a pleasant conversation. An _intelligent_ conversation, and it’s not hard to drown out the whoops and groans of John’s friends watching football in exchange for the quiet thrum of his phone and messages like: _of course, I’d never suggest that the PTA is negligent of their job. However I am glad you agree that a redefinition of student council tasks and workloads might be required._

  Vincent is sick all next week, stumbling into school on Monday only long enough to cough violently and be shepherded home, and Louis finds himself sliding up one seat from his usual. He and Teddy compare homework and make passive-aggressive jabs at their teachers, and Louis becomes bitterly drunk off the tiny teases of Vincent’s life that Teddy drops seemingly without realising _– here, let me help, Vincent has trouble with this too – oh my, Vincent would never drink that – just checking on Vincent, he’s temperature’s coming down, thank goodness._

\--

  Kamri’s in the shower. Louis is on her bed, trying to convince himself to wait for her instead of just lighting this bong up by himself.

  On the bedside table, where she’s left it, the phone lights up; _one new message, Vincent Fawkes._

  It’s the weed or the phone, so Louis reaches across and taps in her password (please, like she’s bothered to hide it from him), and the message reads: _Sorry, have to cancel. Got caught up at work._

  This morning, Louis brushed past Vincent in the school corridors, on their way to separate classes (Louis had considered transferring into P.E. but really, that’s going a bit far). ‘Dinner tonight?’ Teddy had been asking, and Vincent’s answering smile was goofy. Louis had been close enough to pretend – to slot himself sideways, just a bit – that the warmth in Vincent’s eyes was… But no, for him there’s only fire, fire and poison and intensity, and that is (has to be) enough.

‘What are you doing with my phone?’ Kamri asks, towelling her hair.

‘The bastard’s stood you up,’ Louis answers, throwing it across to her.

  She rolls her shoulders, sets them straighter. ‘Whatever. He’ll just have to owe me, I guess.’

‘Kamri, he treats you like crap.’

  She narrows her eyes. ‘Why do you hate him so much?

‘I dunno. Why are you so done over him? You’re always complaining about the sex and then he pulls _this_ shit – why bother?’

  Small shrug. ‘There’s just something about him.’

  _I know_ , Louis almost says. He hands her the bong instead.

\--

  Louis turns his back to the party. Cyril’s bailed on him. Kamri’s hooking up with Andre. Charlie and Bianca are making eyes at each other but they’re too shy to fucking do anything – one of them will probably end up with John by the end of the night. God, closet cases make him sick.

  Louis reaches into his pocket, pulls out a lighter, a roll. Click, and the flame appears; deep breaths, and the calm spreads.

  The hill he’s sitting on has views down to the garden. Louis watches Vincent down there, banging his pretty head against a tree. Louis takes a long drag, holds, releases.

  Teddy turns up, says something – Louis is too far away to make out what. Another long drag, hold, hold, hold... The pair of them bound off together, skipping like a couple of fucking spring deer.

  Slow release.

\--

  There’s a pair of shoulders he recognises, hunched over by the pool. Louis looks up, at the stretch of stars over their head, and then back down, at the gentle ripples illuminated by pool-light.

\--

  Well fuck, he hadn’t actually planned on swimming.

  Vincent’s always held fire but this is an underwater inferno. Louis kicks, and connects, and flounders for air.

\--

  The stars are behind Vincent’s head and there’s a burning in Louis’ lungs but that’s okay because – because, look at that, right there, a moment of hesitation and –

\--

  Yes.

\--

  Oh god.

\--

  Yes.

\--

‘My room’s free,’ Louis whispers, and his chest is still tight (from the near-drowning, of course) so it doesn’t come out as sultry as he’d have liked it to, but at least it’s not begging –

‘Fuck, yes,’ Vincent agrees, and they don’t run but it’s close and the key card is wet but it (thank god, oh thank god thank you thank you) works anyway and they don’t even turn the light on, they don’t even bother with moving further in, they collide right there in the entranceway with the closed door at their backs and Louis pushes his hand into Vincent’s hair because he can, god it’s soft, and Louis nips at Vincent’s lip to hear the sound he makes (the tremble) and Louis doesn’t think about Kamri’s pink bra or Teddy’s chai lattes, he does NOT, he just thinks about how Vincent’s skin feels under his fingers and how Vincent’s lips feel on his neck and –

‘I have an actual bed, you know,’ Louis prompts, trying to drawl and not quite succeeding but at least it’s not begging –

‘Yes, god, Louis, fuck me,’ Vincent grinds forwards, ‘god, Louis,’ he mummers into Louis’ neck, and ‘I’m so hard,’ and Louis is drowning in this he’s neck deep in Vincent’s kisses and he wants to dive further down rather than surface for air.

‘Yes,’ Louis agrees, and they move to the bed.

\--

  Louis writes his number into Vincent’s skin cells with permanent ink, but Vincent doesn’t call.

\--

‘I thought about you last night,’ Louis whispers, voice low, breath hot.

  Vincent shivers, just slightly.  
  Louis flees.

  _I’ve thought about you for years._

\--

  Vincent avoids him for the rest of the school day. It’s not till he’s at home that Louis’ screen lights up. _Kamri Home_ , it says. For a moment he just looks at it, uncomprehending – since when has he had Kamri’s home number, her cell is attached to her hand, he’s never once needed another way of contacting – and then – whiskey, Kamri throwing up, Vincent’s number staring at him from her contacts. He was just _borrowing_ the number, he wasn’t _stealing_ anything from her.

  Louis watches it ring out.

  And again.

  Finally a text. _Pick up._

  He grins, and checks his bedside draw – yes, fully stocked, okay. Text back, then, but act surprised.

\--

  Vincent has his eyes tightly shut. He’s breathing evenly, but it’s a forced rhythm, a consciously counted pace. Louis looks at the hole fluttering in front of him. God, he wants…

  But one finger, that’s all, and more lube before he pushes back in again, and even then it’s only slowly, slowly…

  By the time everything’s properly prepared, Vincent is begging.

\--

  Yes.

\--

  Louis takes. And takes. And takes.

  He teases and he gives and he gentles, but above all he takes, and takes, and takes Vincent’s tongue into his mouth and takes Vincent’s waist into his hands and takes Vincent’s leisure hours into his bedroom, with the door shut and the lights dimmed and his bottle of lube squeezing tighter and emptier and Vincent’s phone buzzing but Louis has teeth over Vincent’s ear and Vincent’s phone has messages from both Kamri _and_ Teddy, but Louis has teeth brushing lightly against Vincent’s cock and Louis is taking great long licks up the length and Louis is taking a deep breath before swallowing the rest down, and Louis is taking, taking, taking.

  _I’m just borrowing,_ Louis thinks. _I’ll give him back._

\--

  He can borrow for a little more, at least. A winter more, at least. A ski-trip more, at least.

\--

  The ground is too far away. So is Vincent. Louis whispers a suggestion, hot words blowing a blush through Vincent’s ear and onto his cheeks.

  Vincent shuffles over a little, and Louis leans over (a lot). His practiced fingers have no trouble with the zip, and then there’s a hardening weight in his palm, and he’s twisting a little while Vincent bites his lip.

  Their eyes meet, and the grin goes both ways – cold mountain air tugs at Vincent’s skin, making Louis’ fire-stoking touch all the sweeter.

  In the ski lift behind them, Teddy is explaining the premise of a renowned novel to Bianca – Louis mummers as loud as he can, promising Vincent a good time, asking Vincent if he likes it, complimenting Vincent on the way he looks, ‘so fucking hot like this, twitching in my hands, leaking already Vincent, how eager – ’

‘Goodness no, Vincent hasn’t read it – ’ Teddy laughs good-naturedly, and –

  Vincent clamps his jaw together and throws his head back, trembling between Louis’ fingers, grimacing with the effort of swallowing his usually extremely vocal release.

  When Vincent reaches for Louis’ fly, Louis bats his hand away. ‘We’re about to get off, you idiot.’

\--

‘Have you… always known that you were gay?’ Teddy asks.

  Louis remembers chai lattes and hair ruffles and see-you-at-lunch smiles. He’s always known that he’s living in borrowed time, but it’s never felt as _stolen_ as it does right now.

  --

  The fire is too hot. His toes and his left thigh are starting to feel burnt, and the flames are casting soft shadows over Vincent’s grin.

  Firelight. How romantic. Louis would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so busy swallowing away that ball of… that ball of nothing. There’s nothing in his throat, of course there isn’t; Louis isn’t prone to sentiment, after all.

  And Vincent’s the one with something down his throat.

__

  When they get back from break, Louis barely sees him. For Vincent, there’s shifts to catch up on, bills to try meet. Louis hangs around the shops, coerces him to come over. It’s a quick shag, but Vincent falls asleep afterwards.

  Louis watches the slow rise and fall of Vincent’s strong chest. It looks a soft place to curl up, to snuggle in and…

  Louis moves away before he does something stupid.

\--

  They get dinner. There are candles on the table.

‘Is this you’re way of asking me out, Fawkes?’ Louis teases.

‘Huh? Um… Maybe, but I thought you weren’t into… that, uh, kind of stuff…’

  Louis remembers Teddy fidgeting with the corner of his book. ‘Of course not, I’m just teasing you.’

  Vincent puts his fork down. ‘Do you want to just get the bill? We could, um – do that thing, you know. The one we did last week, in the school toilets?’

  Louis looks down at his plate – veal ravioli, first class, and he’s barely started it. The candle on their table isn’t even dripping wax. ‘Yeah,’ he finally agrees, ‘that sounds more my style.’

\--

‘Louis,’ Teddy says, ‘I’m sorry if I offended you, on the ski trip.’

  Louis shrugs. ‘You didn’t.’

‘Oh, I thought…’ Teddy smiles tightly. ‘Never mind, it’s not important.’

  Just this morning, Vincent had kissed Louis with his eyes open. He’d been smiling, and Louis had nipped his bottom lip, and Vincent had laughed in a way that reminded Louis of chai lattes. ‘You’ll be alright,’ Louis promises.

  Teddy’s shoulders relax. ‘Thanks, Louis. I don’t have many friends, so…’ he looks down. ‘And I obviously can’t talk to Vincent.’

  They hadn’t even had sex this morning. They’d teased, and laughed, and nuzzled each other’s noses. Vincent’s hair had still been wet, and Louis had run his hands through it, over and over until it was dry and poufy. ‘No, you obviously can’t.’

‘Do you think… he wouldn’t… he’d still want to be friends, wouldn’t he? Even if…’

  They’d had sex at lunch, though. An empty classroom, easily locked from the inside, blinds pulled down. Vincent had lain down on the teacher’s desk and put his hands behind his head. Louis had kissed him all over, every hair, every pore, every nail. He’d licked inside, as many openings as Vincent would allow him – ears, mouth. Arse. ‘I don’t know Teddy, it’s… When I was in primary school, I had this huge crush on my French partner. When I told him, he… well, he didn’t pull away immediately, but. I didn’t exactly get invited over for sleepovers anymore. We drifted apart.’ Louis shrugs. ‘So. It’s up to you, I guess. You know how like, insecure Vincent is about… well. It’s always going to be a risk.’

  Teddy doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘I can’t loose him.’

  Near the end of lunch, Louis had been pressed deep in Vincent, panting into his mouth, grip tight on his hips. A phone had buzzed, it’s call muted by denim jeans. Vincent had swore, and asked Louis to hurry up. He’d been meant to meet Teddy, and he was late… Louis had pulled out. _Finish yourself up, it’ll be quicker_ , he’d snarled. Vincent had winced, and apologised. But he’d still left. ‘Yeah, I get that. And you know that no one’s, like, obliged to know that stuff about you? You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to.’

  Teddy’s smile was fleeting. ‘Thanks Louis. I’m glad I can count on you, at least.’

\--

‘Fuck, Louis, yes, holy – holy _fucking_ shit, yes, right _there_ – ’ Vincent’s clothes aren’t fully off, but his eyes are fully gone.

  Louis stills his hips, leaning down to bite Vincent’s lip. ‘Tell me where you want it,’ he whispers.

‘Deeper, Louis, fuck, _move_ – ’ Vincent runs his nails down Louis’ back, grabs his hips and yanks him closer.

  Louis pulls out, thrusts back in. ‘More, Vinny? I’ll give you whatever you want, you just have to – ’

  The insistent buzz of a phone cuts him off. Vincent’s – Louis has proper ringtones.

  Vincent looks sideways, but Louis grabs his left nipple, tugs. Vincent moans, and the phone rings out.

‘You just have to ask, Fawkes. I’ll fuck you whatever way you want.’

‘D-deeper. Ugh, Louis, I need – ’

  Louis shifts his angle, manages to make it in an extra inch. Vincent throws his head back. Whimpers.

  The buzzing starts back up. Vincent winces. Louis breaths in deep, through the nose – holds it, holds it, releases.

‘I’ll just turn it off,’ Vincent promises, reaching down to the vibrating brick in his half-discarded pants… ‘Fuck, it’s Teddy.’

‘So? We’re busy.’

‘He – uh, he wouldn’t call twice if it wasn’t important… Teddy? Dude? Hey, yeah it’s alright – no, don’t worry about it, anytime…’

  Louis draws halfway out – he _slams_ back in. Slick heat, those powerful muscles clenching him tight, the pleasure spiking out through the rest of his body. And again.

‘ _Ugh_ – fuck, sorry, just let me – ’ Vincent pushes, and glares, and Louis recognises that something in Vincent’s expression from the time Louis almost got drowned. He pulls out. Vincent sits up. ‘Yeah, I’m here – okay, stay there, I’m coming – yeah, ten minutes, tops – okay, uh… see you soon.’ Vincent lifts his arse, yanks his shorts up, and tucks himself in, being careful with the zip.

‘You’ll get fucking blue balls, you know.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Vincent fixes the sleeve of his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Right, well… I’ll, uh… catch you later, Louis.’

  Louis keeps his eyes in his lap. The condom he’s still wearing is shiny with lube. ‘What’s so important.’

  Vincent swings out of bed and searches for his backpack. ‘Huh?’

‘I _said_ , what’s so important that you have to leave in the middle of fucking sex?’

‘Um, it’s just, John stuff, you know… I don’t… We really don’t need to…’

  Louis nods tightly. ‘Whatever. I might give Grant a call then. He’d be happy to finish me off.’

  Vincent pauses. ‘Louis.’

‘No its fine, really. Grant has a better arse then you, anyway.’

  Vincent does something with his hands that Louis can’t quite make sense of. ‘Louis, you don’t have to… I’ll call you later, okay, just please don’t – ’

‘I’ll do whatever I want, Vincent. As you continue to make abundantly clear, it’s not like we’re in a _relationship_.’

‘You know that’s not… like, it’s just – ’

‘You’re going to be late.’

‘…yeah. I’ll call, okay?’

  Louis keeps his eye on his phone all afternoon, but Vincent doesn’t call.

\--

  Louis rescues Vincent from the tail end of another monotonous shift. It’s Sunday and Vincent protests some assignment or another, but Louis uses his usual bribe – lunch.

‘So, is this, like, going to be a regular thing?’ Vincent asks before chomping off a good portion of his hamburger.

  Louis shrugs. ‘Sure, if you want.’

‘Does that mean… like, um – ’

  Leaning forward, Louis steeples his hands under his chin and grins. ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, you slob.’

  Vincent laughs, and makes a show of swallowing. ‘Better?’

‘Much.’

‘Whatever, you try working six days a week and still have time for manners – ’

‘Please, I’m not some anal aristocrat.’ Louis pauses. Winks. ‘Well, depending on your definition, of course.’

‘ _Louis,_ ’ Vincent hisses, hands squeezing his burger such that a slice of beetroot shoots out from between the buns.

  The beetroot slice smacks onto the table. It’s got a set of teeth marks cut into the side facing Louis. They both stare at the thing, and then suddenly they find themselves laughing, and chortling, and trying a little too hard to even breathe.

  Louis buys a pair of hot orange, high-waisted jeans (he’d forced Vincent to try them on and they’ve both lost it again at the sight), a new pair of dress shoes, and a bottle of ice-and-lime perfume (not before making Vincent sniff half the shop). There’d been a little green bottle, in between the strawberries-and-cream and the pomegranate-dream, that Louis had skipped over. Peppermint.

  Vincent had found it anyway, and smelt it, and fingered his wallet.

‘Hey,’ Louis had laughed, ‘I’ve got a good idea,’ and he’d bought the ice-and-lime and dragged Vincent into the shop next door.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘Turtlenecks,’ Louis had explained, and winked.

‘Okay, uh, is that… really your style?’

‘Wow Vinny, didn’t realise you noticed what I wear; you’re always so keen to get it off.’

  Vincent had done the obliquity check of their surroundings. ‘Not so loud,’ he’d blushed.

‘Besides, turtlenecks have… benefits.’

  Louis spent the rest of the afternoon having his neck abused.

\--

  Vincent scratches the back of his head. ‘So, uh, yeah… this is it. My room.’

  Louis looks wall to wall, takes it all in – not hard, the thing’s not big.

  And Teddy’s everywhere. Curled up in the corner of that thin mattress, tucked up in that chair with a book in his lap, laughing over that desk with a box of Chinese; and that’s not even counting the photos on the wall. ‘You’re not fucking me on that mattress.’ Teddy’s sleepy sighs are all over the pillows, and Teddy’s little fingers are clutched all over that worn quilt.

‘I suppose you want to buy me a new one,’ Vincent bites.

‘I would if you’d let me,’ Louis rolls his eyes.

  Vincent breaths in, holds it. Lets out. ‘This was a stupid idea. Lets just go to the mall or something.’

  They catch a movie instead.

  After a procession of explosions, an obliquity heterosexual kiss, and the credits, they stroll back to Vincent’s car.

‘Dinner?’ Louis suggests, as though it’s just occurred to him.

‘Yeah, cool,’ Vincent shrugs. ‘There’s, uh, that drive-through on the way back to yours?’

  Louis swallows. There’s also a sushi train right next to the cinema, and a cosy little wood-fired pizza restaurant just a block away. Only a two minute walk – not that Louis has looked it up or anything. ‘Sure, dirve-though is fine.’

\--

  Louis tells Kamri. Vincent tells Teddy. For everyone’s sake, they tell a re-shaped version of the truth: Vincent only found out he was gay very recently, they’ve _only just_ started seeing each other.

\--

‘Louis, I just want you to know – that is to say, I hope there won’t be any bad feelings between us.’

  Louis has imagined this conversation many times, before attempted sleep and after his phone has stopped filling itself with Vincent’s messages. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, you know that I – well. I want Vincent to be happy. You needn’t worry about me trying to step in where I’m not welcome.’ Teddy’s smile is genuine, but broken.

\--

  Louis takes him to prom. They wear matching suits - black with blue ties – and matching corsages – a single blue peony, attached to the lapel – and even put on matching underwear – frilly pink itchy pieces of nothing that have them struggling to hold back laughter whenever someone says they’ve “dressed so well!”

  Alone in their hotel room, buzzed on free champagne, they strip off the black and the blue and the pink all at once. Louis gifts marks all down Vincent’s neck, and Vincent digs finger-shaped bruises into Louis’ hips.

‘I’m glad we did it,’ Vincent murmurs into Louis’ hair, later, when they’re tangled and sated and heading towards sleep.

‘Well. No one even seemed surprised. Bit underwhelming, really.’

‘Did Kamri tell?’

  Louis rolls his eyes. ‘No. Did Teddy tell?’

‘No, he wouldn’t…’

‘Oh, really?’ Louis knows he should stop there, but the words keep falling. ‘Like the time he didn’t tell anyone about your pathetic almost-kiss?’

  Louis can feel Vincent against his back, chest rigid, jaw clenched. There’s a silence, an opportunity; Louis pushes “sorry” up against his teeth, but it doesn’t quite make it out of his mouth.

‘Whatever. I don’t care if the others knew already or not. Lets just go to sleep.’ Vincent rolls over, and Louis’ back grows cold.

\--

  Louis’ thumb hovers over his phone. Two new messages are stacked one atop the other in his lock screen.

Fawkes – _Just off work if you wanted to hang out? We could_ _…_

Max – _Hey cutie haven’t seen ur ass in a while, call me when_ _…_

  Louis opens his dial pad instead. ‘Kamri, hey… Do you feel like a girl’s night?’

\--

  Graduation. Hats in the air, a procession of speeches. Vincent holds Teddy’s hand, and Louis watches them exchanging all-to-obvious secret grins.

  That’s that, then.

  That’s that.

\--

  Vincent pulls him aside, leads him behind the bleachers. Louis looks up at the cobwebs and remembers Teddy, who just moments ago had his hand held in the sun.

‘Please Vincent, this is so unnecessary. Everyone can see you and the little dude made up.’

‘Uh, well…’ Vincent chuckles, smile cloyingly-guilty, ‘are we really that obvious?’

  Louis raises an eyebrow, snorts.

‘Huh, well anyway, I just wanted to like, thank you… for everything, I mean, I’d probably still be failing at girls if you’d not – ’

‘Oh, that was _my_ _pleasure_ ,’ Louis drawls, and Vincent blushes.

‘So, uh, you’re not…? Like, you’re cool with this, right?’

‘Fawkes, please. I already told you, I don’t do love. It’s fine.’

\--

  Teddy comes next. Or rather he texts: _There’s a few things to run over to close up student council, could you come around tomorrow? 10:30 suits._

_The front door will be open._

  Louis comes at 10:20.

‘Tea?’ Teddy offers, showing him into a high-ceilinged sitting room.

‘I’m fine,’ Louis replies, but Teddy lifts and pours anyway.

  They sit with cups in hand and steam curling through the air.

‘I’m sorry,’ Louis offers, but Teddy’s smile is cutting.

‘Whatever for?’

‘For…’ _For not telling you._

  Teddy’s back is perfectly straight. ‘I’ll admit, this has nothing to do with student council.’

‘Yeah, I… I figured that.’

‘I was actually wondering if I might ask you some advice? You see, sex with Vincent is absolutely phenomenal, I’ll sure you can relate, but – well, I’m not terribly experienced. So I’m considering asking you for some tips… however, I’m not convinced that you’ll be – how to put this – entirely _honest_ in your answer.’

  Louis looks at Teddy and remembers a snotty nose and a fevered brow, uncertain hands picking at the pages of a book as he’d asked – as he’d trusted Louis enough to ask – ‘Will you tell him,’ Louis whispers.

  Because Vincent doesn’t know yet, Louis is sure – the quarterback talked to him yesterday, after all.

  Teddy lifts the lid of the teapot, pours the remainder of his drink back into the pot. ‘Vincent doesn’t trust liars,’ Teddy explains, and stands. He smiles, politely, and gestures to the door. ‘Thanks for stopping by,’ he says.

\--

  Louis is best man.

  Before the ceremony, he tries on one of the rings.

 Even on his pinkie, it doesn’t quite fit.

\--

  With two sober grooms, the reception doesn’t exactly feel like drowning itself. Louis gets all the left over champagne, some twenty bottles of first-class bubbly.

  He also gets regular updates from the newlyweds – well-meaning photos of Teddy and Vincent grinning in front of a fire, snow piled thick on the window in the background. In the first photo, Louis spots four love bites on Vincent’s neck – Vincent’s always had sensitive skin.

  Louis goes through his wardrobe. He throws out his turtleneck and his orange jeans. There’s a pair of Vincent’s jocks, once hastily left behind and now carefully folded down in the bottom of his sock draw; they go too.

\--

 Teddy and Vincent invite him for dinner, after the honeymoon. Louis pleads sickness.

\--

  After a while, they stop asking.

\--

  Louis really is busy. He’s got enough from working with his Dad to give the publishing business a try, but money’s not the key to success, in this career – he reads manuscripts over dinner and bargains with agents during lunch. There’s always another deadline, after all, and it’s not his fault that there’s no time left over for mushroom and pumpkin risotto with the Bijapur-Fawkes.

  And it’s stressful, managing publicity crews and organising book-signing tours – at the end of that kind of day, all he really feels like doing is letting his hair down. Usually, he can manage to manipulate one of the girls into babysitting for Kamri, and the pair of them storm the dance floor and grind with strangers and compete to bag the hottest catch (they don’t talk about the fact that they both won, long ago, and lost at the same time).

\--

  For his twenty-first birthday, Louis buys himself a house.

\--

  The sound of Vincent’s feet, tapping up the stairs behind him, makes Louis feel… like its high school again.

  He’s almost half expecting it, when, as soon as his door clicks shut, Vincent grabs his arm, and spins him around, and pours his soul into Louis’ mouth.

\--

  The condom disappears into the bin, and Vincent’s head disappears into his hands. ‘What am I doing,’ he’s whispering, ‘what the fuck am I – ’

  Louis is not in the mood. ‘Get out. You know I don’t want to deal with this shit. I’m good for a shag and that’s it, isn’t that what you think, Fawkes?’

‘Whatever. You know that’s not true.’

‘Just… just get the fuck out of my house.’

‘Louis…’

‘Please. As if you care.’

‘I…’

  Vincent leaves.

\--

  He’s back in two weeks.

  Louis slams the door in his face.

  The echo haunts him all night.

\--

  The next day, he lets him in.

  Vincent fucks like they’re seventeen and cries like he’s five.

\--

‘He just doesn’t challenge me like you do, Louis, I mean it’s warm and it’s safe but it’s not _exciting_ – I think. I think he’s scared. That if he does something wrong – ’

  Louis rolls his eyes. ‘Uh-huh. So this is your way of asking him to trust you. Nice, Fawkes.’

  Vincent swallows. ‘I don’t… that’s not… fuck, Louis. What am I even…’

\--

  Kamri’s birthday is held at a bar with an open tab. Louis wears a bedazzled crop top and pulls his hair back into a ponytail. The music shakes the floor, vibrating up through his body and pumping into his blood.

  Two o’clock finds him throwing up, and he’s glad that his hair hasn’t shaken loose. He makes it home but the whole house is dark and there’s nothing save the faint ticking of the clock to compete with his breathing.

  He pulls out his phone, dials from memory. ‘Vincent?’ It’s a whisper, but even that feels too loud. ‘Vinnnny…’

  He can hear footsteps, and the swing of a door. ‘Fuck, Louis,’ Vincent’s voice is saying. ‘You can’t just call me in the middle of the – ’

‘Come over, Vin, come and – heh… come and _come_ ,’ Louis giggles.

  Vincent groans. ‘How late did you leave the party?’

‘Vinny, come on, I’ll rim you, I’ll tie you up and rim you all night, just – ’

‘No, Louis. Fuck, I can’t do that. I can’t – we can’t do any of that. Please, lets just…’

  Louis struggles. There’s so many words in his mouth he can’t get anything in order. There’s ‘yes Vincent, right there,’ from when they were seventeen. There’s ‘got anyone in mind?’ from when everything was a maybe between them. There’s ‘Vin I’m sorry, I should have said this earlier.’ There’s ‘no, lets get wood-fired pizza instead.’ There’s ‘I love you.’ There’s ‘I hate you.’ There’s ‘I’ve never fucked up anything so bad,’ there’s ‘did you ever once put me first, even once, Fawkes,’ there’s ‘fuck you, Vincent.’ But all of those words are so old now that they’re comfortable in his mouth, they’ve built homes amongst his plaque and they’ve grown too weary for the journey out into the cold, quiet world.

‘I’m done,’ Louis says.

  And hangs up.

\--

  Louis spends Christmas with his Mother. John’s not there – though he does make the obliquity Christmas call. His mother and stepfather share smiles over ham, and Louis doesn’t even try to hide his eye-rolls.

  Later, when the thought of another bite is stomach-roiling and they’ve retired to the patio for drinks, his mother turns that smile on him.

‘How are you doing, Louie?’ she asks, voice soft, genuine, and a gentle hand comes to rest over his own.

‘I’m good,’ he assures her, ‘really good. Two authors with world tours this year, and I’m thinking about writing something myself.’

‘That’s a nice idea, Louie,’ she pats his hand, smiles. ‘Be rather pleasant to do a spot of writing in front of your new view, wouldn’t it?’

  He thinks about the boxes still unpacked, the sheer amount of stuff that had been cluttering up his two-story house – most of it doesn’t fit in his new flat (penthouse, please, downsizing doesn’t mean downgrading) but that’s okay because there’s only one of him and he never uses all those things anyway.

  It’s a nice flat, modern, with stunning views, and it’s closer to work and it’s tile not carpet and it’s angles not curves. It’s Louis, not the (destructively) tenaciously-clutched possibility of Vincent-and-Louis.

  It’s Louis. Just Louis, and that’s enough.

  Vincent’s called a few times. Louis has let it ring through – he doesn’t want the quiet echo to sneak into this new flat, the sound of someone’s absence marked in silence.

\--

  There’s other people. Lovers who feed him grapes in bed, quick shags who set his veins on fire. None of them stick long enough to keep a toothbrush in his bathroom, and that’s okay.

  Louis has his authors. There’s a young romance novelist with surprising potential, and a crime thriller author who is very close to topping the charts if Louis can just work the media angle right. There’s book launches, and publicity parties, and Louis wears trim suits and lets champagne bubble in his mouth and has lots and lots and lots of mind-blowing, breath-stealing, bone-shattering sex.

\--

  For Vincent and Teddy’s ten-year anniversary, Louis sends flowers. White tulips, with a card: _Lunch?_

 --

  They’ve all well enough money to go someplace with michelon stars, but Teddy recommends a cozy, out of the way café. They serve coffee in mason jars and haloumi instead of steak and they wood-fire their pizzas.

‘Quaint,’ Louis laughs.

  Teddy waves a hand. ‘You love it. Now, tell us, this big author of yours – Sydney, isn’t it? Where on earth did you find them?’ Teddy’s eyes are dark and gentle. There’s extra lines around them, and there’s the suggestion of grey hairs in his sideburn – ten years, ten fucking years and he somehow knows how to ask a question like it’s only been ten days.

‘Teddy, the author’s anonymous for a reason,’ Vincent interjects, but Louis still doesn’t look his way. If there’s grey in Teddy’s hair, there must be grey in Vincent’s, there must be lines that Louis has never seen before, laugh lines and age lines both.

‘Quite right,’ Louis agrees, tilting his glass in Vincent’s general direction.

\--

  After lunch there is dinner, and then a showing of Vincent’s new movie, and then dinner again.

  Teddy doesn’t know (the little nerd is talking to him, isn’t he?).

  Louis looks at the pair of them, sometimes. When they invite him to Paris, or goad him into tofu. Louis thinks about Teddy, who seems to have forgotten fiddling with the corners of a book and turning to Louis trustfully, asking – Louis thinks about Vincent, who seems to be forgetting the way his feet sound on Louis’ stairs (Louis hasn’t had stairs for ten years, so that helps), the way his lips feel around –

  It’s forgotten, and they’re asking him about his authors and listening to him insult the waiter, and Louis receives a Christmas card that year that says: _thanks for being our best friend!_

  And he prods Teddy into challenging Vincent because _ten years_ and yet they’re still his.

\--

‘I’m not getting a couples massage with you, Louis!’

  Well. At least they can joke about it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! This was a big project of mine, I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


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